


Paper People

by liars_dance



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally written in 2007</p>
    </blockquote>





	Paper People

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2007

Viggo leans back in his chair with a lazy smile. He's warm and well fed and happy because Sean's here for the first time in a month. And he's a little bit drunk too... It was always a mistake to open a second bottle of wine and right now they'd almost finshed their third... He takes a breath. "Okay, so that's Richard Sharpe sorted. We'll fix him up with Diego Alatriste and they can talk about honour and swordplay and then tear off each other's billowing shirts and fuck like bunnies..." Viggo pauses, watching Sean's amazing smile. "So what about Walker Jerome? He's a gentle soul - caring - easily hurt, you know?"

Sean nods and stubs out his cigarette. "Yeah, I know. And the one for him is Mellors. I always thought the Blouseman would've been better off with the gamekeeper than that drippy Pearl woman. Can't you just see them together? Walker'd be all golden in the sun, smoking pot and working a plot of garden - just like he was when Pearl left him. But now Mellors would turn up, wanting to wrap him in flowers and worship his body right there in the sun - or in that little hut in the woods."

"Mmm... Not sure Diane would like to hear you describe Pearl as drippy but the flowers and the worshipping sound nice," Viggo replies, licking his lips. "That pairing definitely gets my vote..." 

"Gets mine too," Sean growls, already thinking about taking Viggo to bed and doing a little worshipping of his own - even though it's less than two hours since they last left it. "So what about Loki?" 

"Loki? Best bet would be Frank Hopkins," Viggo says with a wink. "I reckon both of them would be happy in the back of beyond not saying much but getting down and dirty..."

Sean chuckles. "Yeah. I was rather fond of Frank - even if he seemed to be more interested in his damn horse than anything else. Loki wouldn't want a horse as a rival." 

"No worries - he wouldn't have one. Frank set Hidalgo free, remember?"

"Of course - so he did," Sean muses, recalling the expression on Frank's face as he watched the horse almost dance away. "You nearly had me crying at that point. It seemed so sad after all you'd been through together."

"Yeah," Viggo replies. "It _was_ sad - but it was right too. Frank knew it was the only thing to do. They'd both been living in the wrong world. Frank went back to his kind - to where he belonged. And so did Hidalgo..."

Sean swallows and stares at Viggo, recalling all the different personas - seeing all those different characters that his lover had brought to life. Aragorn was astonishing - Walker adorable. Tom and Joey so real - and Nikolai? Fuck... "We're in different leagues, love," he says huskily. "I knew that when we were doing Rings. But what you've done since - especially this latest one and the other you did with Cronenberg - you're amazing..."

Viggo shifts a little in his seat and tugs on his earlobe. He always feels uncomfortable when Sean says stuff like this - not that he did it a lot, but still... "No, I'm not. So don't say things like that," he murmurs. "We're both actors - we're both given a script with paper people - people we're trying to make come alive..."

Sean smiles, catching hold of Viggo's hand and pulling it away from his ear. "But what I'm saying is true, Viggo. Don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining. I love me job and I work hard to make my paper people real too, but I know I'm never going to be nominated for a fucking Oscar. I might get a gong for best naked arse in an inappropriate place, but not best actor. But you, Viggo? It's only a matter of time." 

Viggo pouts with mock indignation. "Are you saying my ass _isn't_ worth a gong?" he asks in an attempt to get Sean off this particular line of conversation. "You always seemed quite fond of it - you've licked and bitten and groped it often enough..."

Sean winks and kisses Viggo's fingers. "No, I'm not saying anything of the sort. You know I love your arse - like I love your mouth and your tight little nipples and your beautiful heavy cock - like I love all of you - and you know that, so don't be going all mardyarsed on me... What I am saying is that you'd better get that one half decent suit you've got cleaned - because you might have a speech or two to make in the spring."

Viggo can feel a flush of colour rise in his face. "You really think that?" he asks softly. "You really think I've only got one half decent suit?"

Sean's fingers tighten on Viggo's for a second and then he laughs out loud, his shoulders shaking. "Bloody right I do. I don't mean that shiny second hand car salesman one either. I mean the dark grey narrow pinstripe you wore in San Sebastian. And what the fuck possessed you to buy that awful red effort is beyond me..."

Viggo smiles and relaxes, pleased to have diverted Sean's attention away from accolades and ceremonies - if only for a few moments. "It was a bet," he murmurs huskily. "And I lost..."

"Thank fuck for that. I thought you'd sunk to new depths in the bad taste ratings. Was it Hopper?" 

Viggo nods and grins. "How did you guess..." 

"Easy..." Sean snorts and sits back in his chair. "Promise me you'll let me see the thing though - let me see for meself if it's as awful as it looked in those photos." 

"I'll give you a show later - I promise," Viggo chuckles, pouring the last of the wine. "Maybe model it with my favourite purple striped shirt..."

Sean snorts again. "Oh, I'll look forward to that. Or maybe your San Lorenzo footie shirt? Just promise me you won't wear that particular combination to the Oscars though - bet or no bet."

"Sean - please..."

Sean sighs and sits forward, his eyes focused on the beautiful, sleepy and slightly flushed looking man across the table. "Please what, Viggo?" he asks softly. "You mean not talk about you being publically acknowledged for your incredible talent? Or not talk about you being publically acknowledged for your equally incredible lack of taste in clothes?"

Viggo shakes his head and picks up his glass. "Both," he murmurs and clears his throat. "Let's drink a toast to two more of our characters instead."

"Okay," Sean murmurs, letting go of Viggo's hand and picking up his glass of wine. He knows he's right but he's also learned when to let a subject drop. "Which two this time?"

"Alec Trevelyan and Nikolai Luzhin," Viggo replies. "A match made in hell I'd say - but I don't want Bond hanging around and spoiling their fun - okay?" 

Sean chuckles and touches his glass to Viggo's. "Okay. I was thinking about David Shaw and Jason Locke. And talking of our bad boys, I'm sure John Ryder could give Tom Stall or Joey whatshisname a run for his money." 

"Cusack - Joey Cusack. And you think so?"

"Yeah - I do. Hell, Ryder and Joey'd be hot together - provided of course they managed not to kill each other before they got to fuck." Sean closes his eyes. "Mmm... I can see Joey staring up and asking Ryder what he wants. And Ryder saying, 'I want you to say four little words; I - want - to - come...'" Sean licks his lips and open his eyes with grin, watching Viggo's pupils dilate. "And then there's Aragorn and Boromir of course," he adds.

"What?" Viggo asks distractedly.

"I said Aragorn and Boromir."

Viggo sighs and adjusts the crotch of his pants. Maybe it's the wine but it's proving difficult to rid himself of the image of Sean as John Ryder telling him to say he wants to come. "Of course - that one's a given," Viggo murmurs. "They'd have to work out a way for Boromir to be not dead of course - and get rid of the damn elf, but I'm sure they'd think of something." Viggo pauses, pushes himself to his feet and grasps Sean's hand. "How about John Ryder and Viggo Mortensen? Think they'd be hot together?"

Sean smiles and pushes back his chair to stand up. "Hot? I think the word's incendiary," he growls, pushing Viggo against the wall and kissing him hard on the mouth. "But it wouldn't be me," he adds breathlessly a few moments later when their mouths part. Sean traces Viggo's cheekbones with his fingers. "John Ryder's a paper character, Viggo - like you said. None of them are me. I couldn't - _wouldn't_ ever hurt you. With me there'd have to be tenderness too. So give me _Sean Bean_ and Viggo Mortensen any day."

"Same here," Viggo whispers, tugging Sean's shirt from his pants and stroking his hands up his lover's warm back. "And not just any day - _every_ day. But it's still my kind of combination."

"What is? Are you talking about that red suit and purple striped shirt again?" Sean asks, purring with pleasure and then sucking in a sharp breath as Viggo's wonderful warm fingers pull down his zipper and slip inside his pants.

"Fucker," Viggo growls, pulling Sean's boxers out of the way so he can get to his prize. "Of course not. I mean hot and tender..."

"Like the Blouseman and the gamekeeper would be," Sean whispers and then moans softly, dropping his forehead to Viggo's shoulder so he can watch his lover's hand moving on him. Such a skilled and practiced hand - such a loving hand...

"Yeah, like they'd be," Viggo sighs and slides his hand up the length of Sean's cock, feeling it harden in his grip, stroking his fingertips over the velvet soft skin. Christ, he'd never get tired of this wonderful intimacy - this trust - this utterly amazing love. "But most of all, like we are, Sean - just like you and me."

\--[END] --

 


End file.
